A Wayward Kritter
by MuddyWolf
Summary: Cranky Kong in his younger days discovers a baby Kritter and its dead mother. Short and stupid.


Legal Stuff: Kritter, Cranky Kong,, and all characters that pertain to Donkey Kong Country are copyright to RARE, Nintendo, etc. Ameteur and nonprofit,and so on and so forth and so on and so forth and so on and so forth. If this bears any resemblance to any fanwork  
  
or infringes on copyrights of actual literature or media, PLEASE NOTIFY ME AT Blue9Tiger@aol.com, and I'll change it.  
  
This is my first DK fic.....so..bear with  
  
me. Some elements are from DKC2 as well.  
  
started: 1/20/01 restarted:5/31/02 finished: 6/2/02 modified:  
  
The Wayward Kritter  
  
by Blue9Tiger  
  
1: Corpse on the Glacier  
  
A deluge of snow at the peak of its strength flagged the beginning of the harshest season on the upper areas of Donkey Kong Island. It was a wild expanse of land, extending from the rumbling shores to the deathly still mountaintops, tortured by  
  
blizzards and black ice, to dense jungles with a muted sunset glowing high overhead. From heavy industry to pristine wilderness, the island's diversity was incredible. It remained untouched by the hand of human, and was inhabited by primates of the less  
  
developed variety, and their enemies, the reptillian ravagers of the charted parts of the island. The opposing sides were clear and indisputable. All on Donkey Kong Island, from birth until death, knew their  
  
role in that primitive society. No one questioned their place, because none were discontent with it. If they were reptiles,  
  
they would combat the simians. Since ancient times, that was how it was. Few challenged tradition, and those who did, such  
  
as King K. Rool and the others of his clan, would meet with stunning defeat, as would his subordinate reptiles. This was  
  
how it was, and this was how it was expected to be.....until one day on the blizzard-barraged Gorilla Glacier some time before the time of King K. Rool and his clan members.  
  
Half-frozen claws sunk into the packed snow, that refused to yield at their icy touch. Gleaming eyes that had faded  
  
with time and toil were a dim yellow, like the light of a lamp whose bulb was not far from burning out. Elongated jaws  
  
snapped shut to keep the freezing wind out of her scaly body, but it persisted, chilling the blood that flowed sluggishly  
  
through her veins. The said creature was a Kritter. In contrast to others of her kind, she strove to walk with her shoulders high, away from the ground that she was expected to crawl upon from birth.Her scales were covered with the unrelenting snowstorm, coating the green flesh with thickly-packed ice. It stopped dead for the length of a staggering minute before she somehow found the remnants of energy she posessed to embed her other set of claws into the snow, and inch her way further. It took  
  
every ounce of stremgth for her to keep moving. But strength was meaningless without a will to drive it. The Kritter's mentality was simple and direct: live or die in the face of conquering.  
  
A Necky swooped down, its shrill caw echoing through the heights of the Glacier. They were unpleasant creatures: they  
  
developed no ties with neither the apes nor the reptiles. They were not necessarily scavengers, but predators., and their  
  
flocks were many: loners were rare. At its call, several Neckys descended from the leafless tree that never made it to its  
  
expected height, and had curled over the snow, bent at the ice-battered trunk. The weight of the Neckys forced it to bow  
  
lower. But as they lifted off from the twisted branches, the tree snapped upwards, high enough to make itself known to a  
  
flitting striped object.  
  
The Kritter stood no chance. In her younger days, or in her element, within the marshy areas of Barrel Bayou, though she  
  
never travelled there. The Necky pecked at her furiously, their brown or black feathers shrouding her with their cloak of  
  
death. She swiped at the fowl with her claws, driving one of them off,and she hurtled through the flock, carrying a lump  
  
of something or other under her arm. The Kritter crawled away from the Neckys, her blood growing colder with each passing  
  
second. The dull yellow in her eyes must have been reflecting off of her face: there was yellow in front of her. But she  
  
realized too late: it was a Zinger of the green variety in search of warmer areas. They bulging-eyed wasp, that always flew with its stinger pointing downward, to protect the vulnerable area from any projectile that would collide with its tough head, thorax, or abdomen. Zingers had their stingers and a predetermined flight path to work for them. But Kritters had nothing: save for their wits, claws, and teeth.  
  
"Leave me alone..."  
  
Her voice was run ragged from climbing, and she could utter little more than a croak to ward off the Zinger, or the freezing pellets of ice that stung her weary eyes. The Kritter felt herself fading as the Zinger flew his unaltered course, straight into the vital throat. The stinger embedded itself into the reptile, weakening her to her last breath. As Zinger pulled his stinger out of the flesh, its wings beating rapidly to keep himself aloft, he buzzed around the corpse, throwing out a useless apology as he continued on his path.  
  
A steel-rimmed barrel flew threw the air, catching the Zinger in the head, and he fell into the oblivion below. The thrower  
  
landed on the piling snow, leaving the print of simian feet in the snow. He grunted in curiosity, scratching his head with his hairy fingers. He had an intelligent look on his broad visage, one of authority and pride at being the head of the Kong clan. As his wife would say, he was the "top bannana".  
  
The brown-furred ape leaned over to turn over the corpse, and drew back in disgust when he saw the scales: it was a reptile,  
  
a Kritter. He didn't trust them. They would hide in the swamps and collect in bunches, as if they were planning something. As  
  
the ape started to walk away, a tiny sound was heard above the roaring wind. The ape turned back, and walked upright towards the faint sound. It was definitely made by something alive, and the young ape's curiosity was roused by the sound of  
  
living amongst the dead, he trudged through the ever-thickening snow back towards the corpse. A dark green lump was on  
  
top of it, its golden eyes gleaming as it crawled sluggishly towards the monkey.  
  
It was a baby Kritter.  
  
  
  
The End (for now)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------  
  
CQF?: Yes, I know that was short and bad, but so the ball bounces. Fic forecast: Domino-centered work in-progress,  
  
Chapter 12 of TTTP, Chapter 4 of Gothic Toilet (in progress), and that's all for now! 


End file.
